In a Name x 300 words
Cadaverini.
That was what everyone knew me by, nothing more, nothing less. I was a Cadaverini, Bruto's granddaughter, the girl who stood in the shadow of the city's most feared criminal. If anybody so much as looked the wrong way at me, my grandfather would have a 'say' about it. Nobody could get close to me without my grandfather's supervision, meaning that I had nobody.
Nobody ever called me by my name. Not even my grandfather, who would call me things like 'bambina' and 'dear'. Nobody was allowed to call me by my name. My grandfather would tell me that when somebody holds your name, they hold power over you, and who was I to disagree with him? Indeed, nobody held any power over Bruto Cadaverini. It was he who taught me my distinct laugh, to give me an edge over anybody who bothered me.
But then there was the accident...
Don Tigre came along, and I truly wanted to believe him, with his sweet lies, and his calling me 'Violetta'. I had wanted to believe that somebody would simply be nice to me, no strings attached, for no reason at all. But in the end, Violetta was only another nickname, and Don Tigre still treated me only as he would a Cadaverini.
However, there was still the man with the spiky hair, who went to court and fought for Don Tigre's incarceration, who had helped me, despite my status, or rather, my grandfather's status. He had, quite frankly, acted on his morals, something that I had never seen before. I had giggled, scaring him and his accomplice with the equally strange hairstyle, but I had inwardly smiled. He was somebody who had taken me simply for me. Viola, and I could appreciate that.
I never really poisoned the cookies. x owari